She told him about Joanne Vinson’s likely enounter with the Lizard King while Pederson transferred his weapons and gear into Bull’s truck.
“So you were right all along. Pergram is here somewhere. We may not be wasting our time after all,” Bull said. His tone was more serious than Cassie had yet heard from him. His words drove the point home: They were hunting the Lizard King.
He looked over Cassie’s head at the other vehicle and said, “Are we all here?”
Thomsen leaned out of the driver’s window and chinned toward the grocery store. “Waiting on Mike but he should be here any minute.”
“Let’s leave him,” Bull growled.
At that moment, Mike Pompy emerged from the store clutching a plastic bag of snacks for the trail. He had a look of concern on his face and he marched straight toward the sheriff.
“Bryan, there’s something you need to see in here.”
The sheriff said, “What is it?”
“You have to see it for yourself.”
With that, Pompy turned around and went back inside.
“What the hell?” Pederson asked no one in particular. He looked to Thomsen who shrugged in response. Pederson shoved his hands in his front pockets and started for the store.
Cassie followed and ignored Bull’s grousing.
When they were inside Pompy greeted them and said, “You have to see this. The maintenance people were about to clean it up this morning but I told them to hold off.”
Pompy strode down the food aisles toward the back of the store. Three lone shoppers and two check-out clerks craned their necks to see what was going on.
The deputy led them to the men’s bathroom. A Hispanic man with a silver mustache stood outside the door waiting for them to let him get back to work. Pompy shouldered past him and pushed open the door while motioning the sheriff and Cassie to follow him inside. The bathroom was tiled with polished brick. The janitor’s abandoned mop bucket on wheels was near the toilet.
“What?” Pederson asked, looking around.
“Look,” Pompy said as he bent forward and flipped the toilet seat up.
On the face of the white underside of the seat, written in smeared dried blood, it read: IM KYLE W. FROM ND
IM KIDNAPED
HELP!
Cassie had to reach out and steady herself against the wall so her knees wouldn’t buckle beneath her.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
RON WAS IN A DANGEROUSLY black mood at breakfast so Kyle kept his mouth shut and tried not to make eye contact with him. Although his head was bare and his hair uncombed, Ron seemed to be hooded. He hadn’t said a single word all morning. He sat there at the head of the table with his legs splayed out beneath it and his big hands resting on top. His eyes were open and unfocused as if he were watching a movie in the middle distance no one else could see.
Amanda, unfortunately, seemed oblivious to Ron’s state. She hummed “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” while she fried the bacon and cracked the eggs. She’d tied brightly colored ribbons to her dog collar as if trying to make it look like a necklace. Her collar was open to show it off. It was as if she was fishing for a compliment for her ingenuity.
She wore an oversized chamois shirt over her own shirt because it was cold inside the cabin. Ron had shoved the new window into the hole in the wall but hadn’t sealed it. A cool breeze blew through the interior.
Kyle glanced over at Ron, who had turned his head to Amanda. The man glared at Amanda and her humming. His eyes were murderous. Kyle wished he could catch her attention and warn her to please be quiet for her own sake.
That’s when she began to sing softly.
You better watch out,
You better not cry …
Ron fumbled for her transmitter on his chest and Kyle winced.
But Ron changed his mind before he punished her electronically. Instead, he stood up from the table so suddenly his chair fell over behind him. Before Amanda could react to the crash Ron cocked his fist and hit her hard in the small of her back.
Amanda made an ooof sound as if all of the air had been crushed out of her and she collapsed in front of the stove.
Ron stood over her glowering and brandishing both fists.
When she moaned and rolled to her side away from him he kicked her in the buttocks hard enough to slide her a foot across the floor.
She squeaked—she was trying to get enough breath to cry.
Kyle said, Please stop, Ron. Please stop.
Ron looked up at Kyle. His face was a red mask of anger. Kyle braced himself for a beating.
Then the hood seemed to come partially off and Ron’s face softened.
He said to Kyle, “Maybe you’re right. Who’s going to cook us breakfast?”
Amanda got enough air to weep quietly.
Ron said to her, “All I ask is to eat breakfast in fucking peace. If I let you up can you finish it and keep your mouth shut?”
She nodded vigorously. Her voice was weak when she said, “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Get up.”
Amanda rolled to her hands and knees and wheezed for breath. It bothered Kyle to see her that way, to see an adult woman in that position. Finally, she reached out and grasped the handle of the oven and clumsily pulled herself up.
Ron watched her without extending his hand to help. Then he backed up and sat down heavily in his chair.
Kyle briefly closed his eyes, praying that it was over.
When he opened them he heard Ron grumble, “You people don’t fuckin’ deserve a man like me.”
*
KYLE HAD HEARD Ron come back the night before. It was well after midnight and freezing cold inside the cabin. He and Amanda had added Tiffany’s sheets and blankets to their own to try and keep warm.
He’d awakened when a sweep of headlights from Ron’s truck raked across the walls through the open window. When Ron came in he pretended he was still sleeping. He’d know in seconds if Ron found out about the message he’d written in blood under the toilet seat. Kyle tried not to tremble.
He listened as the man sighed and paced and talked to himself in a low but angry tone. Kyle couldn’t hear the words except for when Ron said, “Here’s your goddamn window,” as he shoved the new frame into the opening.
Then it got quiet, and the quiet bothered Kyle more than the mumbling had.
After nearly an hour, Kyle opened one eye slightly.
Ron had been sitting in his chair at the table staring at nothing at all. He wore white coveralls over his clothes. Kyle hadn’t seen him wear the coveralls before. Ron looked as if he were tortured and was fighting back tears.
Kyle closed his eye before he started to feel sorry for the man for being so sad.
*
AS AMANDA MOVED the breakfast dishes to the sink with a painful-looking limp, she knew Ron was watching her carefully. When her back was to him and Ron stood up again she didn’t know what to expect.
But Ron stepped over to her and gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. She stiffened at his touch and she was glad he couldn’t see her face at that moment.
Ron bent over and pressed his mouth into her hair. “I’m sorry I hit you, Amanda. You didn’t have it coming. You cooked a real nice breakfast and I hope you’re feeling okay.”